Holding Tight to Life In the Shadow of Death

In the past three months, the Appiah sisters have attended separate funerals for their parents and spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with area relatives. "Thanksgiving was really hard because we kept asking ourselves, 'What are we giving thanks for?' " Appiah said. The girls quietly observed their late mother's birthday Nov. 26 with a long prayer.

They have cleaned out the family's townhouse, sorting through their mother's clothes and kitchen utensils while wondering aloud if they will be able to cook as well as their mom, a part-time caterer who also worked as a nurse and housekeeper. They miss such family activities as going out for Chinese food or staying in and watching African movies.

Samuel Appiah-Kusi, described by his eldest daughter as "calm" and "patient," taught Betty to drive in his cab. If she asked for spending money, sometimes he would say he had none to spare, only to leave cash in her room before heading out at 4 a.m. for his shift. "I don't think he really likes saying 'no' to us," Appiah said.

The girls were touched when they cleaned out their father's wallet and found three separate pictures of themselves from when they were younger.

Appiah, who attended Stuart her first two years of high school, has no answer for what happened -- in fact, everyone seems bewildered -- but she attributes the shootings at least in part to financial stress.

"If you knew my dad, you would know he would do no such thing like this," Appiah said. "It was some work of the devil, some evil thing that came over him, for him to do this. My dad would do no such thing. It's not his fault. We've forgiven him. He really lived a good life and we're so proud of him.

"Every time we think about it, it's, 'Is there something we could have done for this not to happen?' Then, 'Man, I wish we had never gone to school and that this had never ever happened.' When we say that, some people say it's good that we probably weren't home because who knows, we would have gotten killed, too."

Appiah is leaning toward playing basketball next season at Virginia State University in Petersburg, where she can remain within a couple of hours of her sisters. She wants to be a preschool teacher.

Carlock, who a week before the shootings had had a pleasant conversation in the school parking lot with Appiah's mother about Betty's college prospects, has plans to bring her in to talk to his future teams about how to deal with adversity.

"I always tell my sisters and everyone else: It's not the way people die, it's what life they lived," Appiah said. "That really motivates me every time. I have to just live life how it is. I can't let this whole thing hold me back.

"I know [my parents are] there with me, watching and just being happy for me. Even though I can't see them, I can feel their presence. I know they'll be proud that they've really helped me grow up and be somebody."